


As Yet Untitled

by nerdyrose24



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25338607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyrose24/pseuds/nerdyrose24
Summary: A snapshot of something I've been cooking up :)The tags pretty much sum it up, although it won't be as angsty as it sounds and instead more focused on their relationship.(Will probably repost as part of a longer story)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 20





	As Yet Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This may end up as a longer fic as I have more of the story to tell but as soon as I've written something, I want to post it so here it is. I don't know why, but I just like pain.

Deep in the realm of sleep, Steve could hear a faint whistling. He saw of children chattering as the air chased through the gaps of their missing teeth, and then tasted the sweat on his blue lips along with the army whistle blasting his fragile ears. Finally, he felt the bitter sting of the blizzard, wind howling through the Alps and shivered. “Rogers!” An echo of Chester Phillips tore through his memory, jolting him awake. 

Realising where he is (in his bed, in his apartment, in Brooklyn), Steve relaxes and lay back down.

Dozing, he shivers again. His bones can remember the cold of that day in the Alps, colder by far than any of his childhood fevers. 

Trained ears pick up the flutter and slide of paper against floor and he wakes completely. His eyes dart out of the open door of his bedroom, spotting the sheets of paper flying across the living room beyond. It was windy? In the apartment? 

“Bucky?” he calls, voice deep with sleep as he heaved himself into a sitting position. He can feel it now. He knows it’s not a dream. Steve swings his leg to the side of the bed, slips his feet into slippers and grabs a dressing gown off the hook. “Buck? Is the door open?” Steve ask again, with more strength this time. 

Standing in the living room, he turns his head in the direction of the cold blasts and white soft grey light of the tempestuous night. He spies a figure silhouetted out on the balcony. “Bucky?” he calls. 

As he nears, his heart sinks, blood rushes from his body. His lover stands on the railing of their tenth-floor apartment. The look on Bucky’s face – a trance. It’s the look that scares Steve to death. It’s the absent, haunted look Bucky has when his metal fingers dig up the flesh of his right arm. 

“Hey, baby, don’t – don’t do this,” Steve says, striving to keep the desperation out of his voice. He has to keep this as soft as possible. 

Weakly, Steve reaches his arms out. At the same moment, Bucky’s eyes dart downwards and his foot glides out to hover in the open air – 

“No!” 

Strong arms band around Bucky’s body, hauling him over the railing as he starts thrashing violently and crying, screaming into the night. As his feet hit the floor, he lets out an excruciating elongated “No!”, before he stills and hunches over, helpless. 

Still holding onto him from behind as if he were a life raft or a buoy, Steve leans with him, covering his body with his own and exhaling deeply against Bucky’s shoulder.

***

Hours later, and they sit in the dark, the moonlight still streaming through the now locked French windows. Steve, finally finished locking all the doors and making sure Bucky was warm and mentally present, has joined Bucky on the sofa. Neither look at the other, both mentally exhausted, but Steve hasn’t quite given up yet. 

“You know – you know I’d be devastated if you ever …” Steve feebly begins, still not strong enough to admit what could have happened tonight. 

The hand that Bucky now uses to cup Steve’s face is kissed – twice. They were wet kisses. He was crying. 

“I know,” Bucky chokes out. He lifts the fingers to brush away those tears. “I won’t,” he says. As their eyes finally meet, Bucky feels strong fingers clasp around the wrist of the hand on Steve’s face. “I promise,” he tells him. 

At that, the Captain crumbles, body falling apart with heaving sobs. Bucky catches him, with a metal arm wrapping around the broad, trembling shoulders, pulling him in close. 

Steve responds, lifting his head, crying harder and hugging him in turn. Desperate for it to stop, Bucky cradles the back of Steve’s head and whispers: “I’ll get some help, okay,” right into his ear. 

“I thought you did,” his counterpart sobbed. 

“More help. I’ll get some more help,” he placated, feeling his own eyes close and wished he could cry.


End file.
